


Episode 39: Last Minute Decisions

by PitoyaPTx



Series: Clan Meso'a [39]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Clan, Mandalorian Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 23:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21346873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitoyaPTx/pseuds/PitoyaPTx
Summary: "I used to watch them every night." ~CaraDecisions based on guilt are never good, but with Cara... who could blame her?
Series: Clan Meso'a [39]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1261364
Kudos: 1





	Episode 39: Last Minute Decisions

There comes a point when you’re still awake in the middle of the night that accepting you probably won’t get any sleep becomes the best course of action. Dawn was only a few hours away, judging by the slight change in hue near the horizon. Cara traced the filigree on the ceiling light with her finger before letting her arm drop to her side. By now, she’d grown accustomed to sleeping in the jumpsuit. For the most part, it was helping her posture and providing support for her neck as she was largely a side sleeper. She picked at the velcro on her chest where the breastplate normally sat before reminding herself that damaging it would probably harm the effectiveness of the jade plate. With a resigned huff, she sat up and put her feet together so her legs made a diamond shape on the bed. Once Aviila came back up, she’d probably make her get some sleep. At the moment, she was downstairs talking to Dendona about what Cara couldn’t tell. Jecho’s voice had trailed off over an hour ago so she must be asleep. Cara felt one of the braids hanging down just above her lap. What was Tavut doing and why didn’t he feel ready to do it? More importantly, why was he being made to do something he didn’t want to? Not that I’m worried, she told herself, he’ll be fine. I’m just.. Her train of thought trailed off back to the first time they’d met. It lingered on him for a moment, the tall, broad shouldered young man carrying a table like it was nothing. Maybe she didn’t understand just how strong Meso’a could be, because to her he seemed indestructible.  
“I’m smart in my language,” came his voice in her head.   
She pulled her knees to her chest and sighed. Maybe she’d been too hard on him. If he used to be Maak’ux then he probably didn’t learn Mando’a until he was at least ten years old. If she remembered Jecho’s lesson on Meso’a training, then Tavut would have been taken in by a tribe member so he could attend regular training from ages eight to ten. Then he’d travel from tribe to tribe with other children his age to be trained by them and to learn the history of each tribe. At fourteen, he would take the Kexultz and be declared Kukex (a warrior) and have his name replaced with Haria’n (ruiner). He could be called by his name, Tavut, when with friends or family, but those who didn’t know him would simply call him “Haria’n” as it was his title. If he’d taken the Choxultz, everyone could call him Tavut because he would have “won” it back as an elite warrior. Something like that. She found it too confusing to worry about at the time, and Jecho assured her it would be easier to watch than to read about. What she did remember was that some people who finished the Choxultz could be assigned to someone in leadership. Each Alor, tribal and Clan Alor, had two main attendants who lived and fought with them. They also had a series of other warriors on call for anything from errands to sparring partners. Even the Eastern Alor, the Akjah, had a Clan guard with them at all times. Cara couldn’t remember most of their names, aside from Barsurl and Meiri because Jecho had her commit those to memory. Made sense to remember her home tribe’s leadership.   
Cara flopped backwards on the bed and slung an arm across her face. Her home tribe...she still wasn’t used to saying that. Her home was still Tatooine, and a part of her felt as though she wasn’t allowed to leave it. At any point, the Black Sun would burst through the door and take her away. They’d probably make her pay for Leata’s death or whatever revenue they’d missed out with their farm grinding to a halt. Maybe they’d forced someone else to move in and take over. An image of all her brother’s holo-cards getting shoved into a trash compactor was too much for her. She rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in her arms. She missed him. She missed her room. She missed home. She found herself hoping she’d wake up there to Dovin cooking breakfast and a stack of jugs ready to be cleaned and refilled. There’d be a holo from Fent saying they were ready for their tank to be repaired and one from their father saying he was out at Mos Illa for a long day of trading. She could almost smell the sand that always blew in through any crack in the blast doors. She could feel the heat baking the inside of the home. She could see herself pulling on an old set of coveralls and skipping out to the kitchen. Dovin was a great cook. Their mother wasn’t the greatest, but she always knew how to put something together with whatever was in the pantry. When Dovin started to come home with fresh food, they knew something was up. He was spending a lot of time out of the house, but it took him a while to confess to Cara. Vaya came to visit once before she whisked him away. Cara didn’t know if she liked her or not, but Vaya only had eyes for her brother. She hung on his arm, fussed with his beard, and even tried to strike up conversations with Cara. Vaya was smart, that Cara could tell, but she had no idea how wealthy she was until Dovin started sending the holo cards. They were each a minute loop of him showing her hotel rooms, casinos, beautiful vistas, all with the promise that he would take her there someday. Vaya was in some of them, waving or backing up Dovin’s claim that they’d come for her. Cara believed him, believed her, but when she opened her eyes every morning she still found herself on Meso’kaan.   
Like they did every night, Beon and Fent came to her next. Unlike the hopelessness that came with thoughts of her brother, the hunter duo brought overwhelming guilt. It made her chest hurt to think that they’re probably out there looking for her. If they cared, that is. She shook her head. Of course they cared! They probably would have taken her with them if Aviila hadn’t… attacked them. That was something Cara could never reconcile despite how good Aviila was to her. She’d attacked them. She’d knocked them both out faster than anyone she’d ever seen, and she’d seen her fair share of fights, especially over water. From the door, she could see Aviila shoot something at Beon and the pained cry he’d made when it hit him. She remembered the cracking sound of her fist hitting Fent’s helmet. A shiver ran down her spine and she hugged her arms against herself. She could have the best time at the Ka’kex, eat amazing foods, meet amazing people, but nothing could ever change the fact that at her core, Aviila was dangerous. Cara didn’t care what the Ordo did, those two hadn’t done anything wrong. It took all of her willpower to keep her bitterness at bay, especially after Jecho told her Aviila didn’t want Cara to know where Jecho was from.   
She sighed again, continue to struggle with the mixture of emotions swirling around her brain. After a while, something clicked...

In the dark, as the sky slowly changed from night to dawn, a plan hatched itself in the depths of Cara’s mind.


End file.
